


Musty prison cell and black pull-over

by Veelitann



Series: Beyong the Heart of Outer Space [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Empathy, Heart of outer space, M/M, Memories, Prison, Slice of Life, pull-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veelitann/pseuds/Veelitann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Trowa POV]<br/><b>AC 195</b></p><p>The first time I'd met Quatre, I wasn't sure how I had to react to him. I couldn't understand any of the situation, I couldn't get his way of thinking. I think I hated him in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musty prison cell and black pull-over

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> Second part already, into Trowa's thoughts and memories about how he met Quatre. This doesn't take place at all in AC206 like 'Congratulations' though, that's a lot different, we're between the moment they met and the second time they join in the anime serie. I like using the original story and its timeline !
> 
> Tell me what you think about this one-shot, it'd make me happy ! (I'm waiting for my beta to correct my work, so for now, have the raw thing :p )

**AC 195**

My name isn’t Heero Yuy. I’m able to have feelings toward people, I’m just not able to show it so much. Is it because every time I did, something bad had to happen? In a war time like now, it was always better not to show what you feel. _Don’t feel anything_ , don’t _think_ about anything, and just focus on your work, whatever it can be, and you will succeed.

Darkness were all around me, altering the color of the thin blanket I had to use to cover myself by night. It wasn't a large cell, OZ prisons had never been the best place to live in after all, but they still managed to put something looking like two...Beds? I assumed. It looked more like cots actually, with that delicate frame that threatened to break at any moment, even when you weren't using it. 

I sighed. Being a prisoner wasn't easy, of course. I could imagine if they had caught Duo instead: the guy would have been such a pain in the ass -and I really mean it, that was his style after all. However I never saw the guy complain, no matter the topic -excepted the fact that Heero never talked enough but if I had to follow Duo's train of thoughts, no one talked enough even in a entire life. So well, _shut up, Maxwell_ , as Chang would say.  
It was incredibly cold here, and I pulled a little on my turtleneck to shove my chin under the warm fabric. That pull-over was being a bit old, it was now my size and I knew that I was going to grow even more in a few time. Money was something precious at a time like that, so I always cared about my own belongings. Clothes weren't an exception, and I was used to buy them a few sizes bigger than mine. This one might be my oldest, and it was just perfectly fitting my body. _Shit._

I was alone in that dark clammy room, the silence surrounding me. Sometimes, I was feeling like it was growing more and more oppressive, but in the end I managed to deal with it. Maybe because of the sound of soldiers’ boots on the other side of the thick metal door, maybe because of the door itself opened twice a day for a nauseous meal on a dirty trail. 

I don't remember how many time I spent here alone. I just knew that I was about to ask for a second blanket -even if I knew that they would never access to my request, of course. The fabric was so threadbare and I used to play with it by passing my fingers through the holes. Many times in one day, the soldiers were coming, taking me to some lieutenant I didn't even remember the name to get interrogated again and again. They needed me, so they couldn't hit me -or not as hard as they wanted. I didn't even know what they were asking me, it wasn't something related to me -and their internal problems were the least of my problems, really. 

I couldn't do anything to escape, the analysis of the base didn't give me the best results for such an idea. Numerous soldiers, many of the best mobile suits OZ could possess. I swear I even saw Lady Une in a corridor once, her cold gaze barely giving me some attention when my guards told her who I was. The third Gundam pilot. They hadn't any name to place on my head yet, and I couldn't blame them, poor guys. 

I never had a name, and even at sixteen I still wasn't used to call myself with that name I took to someone else a few years ago. So, well, of course I didn't answer to that simple "What's your name?" of them. Of course, they beat me up with pleasure. 

I was getting used to all of that, and somehow it was quite scary to think like this. Used to be a prisoner, uh? Or used to be hit? Insulted? Yelled at? 

I, myself, was a soldier, I was trained for such a situation, and I could endure it with no problem. I just hated nights and their huge lot of nightmares. I just couldn't do it - sleep I mean - properly, for years and years. So I stopped, taking it for micro resting and its lack of dreams and nightmares. I'm not even sure if I even ever managed to have a whole night of sleep at least once-- 

I sneered at the thought. Oh, yeah, I did. Once, actually. 

The cold of the cell got me by surprise again with a soft air stream coming from the narrow opening under the door. 

I, once, slept well. It wasn't in a base full of mobile suits, nor in one of the few places we hid at -and by 'we', I mean some allies, never mind who, what and why. I wasn't one to follow the other Gundam pilots, and preferred working alone. Sometimes, I spent some moments with them, one after one. I didn't know them so much, just enough to feel ok by their sides. Just 'ok' was enough to me, I didn't need to be at ease or something. 

But it happened once. Feeling more than just 'ok' with one of them. I mean, that blond guy is pretty nice, sweet and all. Even friendly. Let me tell you that I wasn't really used to that. I don't even understand why the fuck he opened his cockpit the first time we met. Was he a masochist? I could have used that very moment to kill him or something! He had never cared about his own safety, even had invited me to come over. I had wondered for a long time about the reason that had made him ask such a thing, if there was anything -a military secret for example - hidden in that huge and rich house, _anything_? 

Nothing. It was the same as being out of the time at that place. The sun. The soft and tepid wind crossing the rooms through opened windows. It all had felt as if I had entered another world and soon, that boy had kept proving that he wasn't _normal_. Who the hell invites a stranger at home during the war, one who was about to kill you before running out of munitions, and then just leaves him free while playing violin? Because yeah, that’s basically what he had done. 

I hadn't been trained for such things. I couldn't understand what he wanted, as a soldier. So I had let him alone for a while, and had wandered in this unknown house. I had crossed a lot of men, all of them from a country I had hardly heard about but they were from hearth, unlike me. Unlike him? They had talked a little, asking me some things at first, and then telling me their stories, how the Manganacs were fighting by " _Master Quatre_ " 's sides for the Peace. I happened to understand things pretty quickly, making the links. We were in one of the Winner's earthly domains, one of the most powerful families from the Colonies. And that blond guy, living without thinking about anything wrong could possibly happen, was _just_ the youngest son. The only son, even. The heir of the Winners. Oh man, what a story. Why was he even piloting a Gundam, I could have asked, but I didn't dare at that moment. This part might be personal enough for Quatre not to reveal it to other people. I had assumed that, if they weren't already telling me his reasons, they didn't know them, after all -they were way too talkative for skipping such an important part of the story. 

After a while, I had lost myself in that house, trying almost every doors I could find, in case I would fall on something, someone I knew -what was quite impossible. It was, at first, getting on my nerves; I was losing a previous time, probably missing a mission, until I remembered that my mobile suit wasn't operational at all and the Manganacs were working on it at that moment. I couldn't do anything at all. 

I don't know how, but I managed to hear the music. Surprisingly, the sound of the violin was quite joyful, something that fills your heart and pushes you to listen carefully until you finally wonder why and what you're staring at. That was what had happened to me, and I had had to blink a few times when he had caught me leaning at the door entrance of the room he was in, the bottom of his musical instrument under his chin. He had blinked as well, unsure at first about what to do, but soon a large smile had curved his lips. He could have been shining and I’m pretty sure it would have been the same to me. Wow. The guy was physically the definition itself for innocence. What a shame for him to use a Gundam. He might lose his purity someday, and somehow this idea felt awful to me. 

"Hey," he simply greeted me at first. "Sorry, I let you alone for a while." What was funny was the fact that I had been the one to leave and Quatre the one to apologize. Nice boy. 

"It's ok, I visited a little. That's a huge place, I almost lost myself." 

His chuckle was incredibly genuine, and it was refreshing. I needed that, the soft sound had made me relax a little and I had let myself have a look in the room. It was as big as the other rooms I saw, but this one was certainly dedicated to music. A piano in the middle, violins on the walls, flutes behind window glasses... I couldn't even imagine the cost of all of this but I knew enough to know that even in my whole life, I couldn't buy more than the cheapest flute of this place. Not one of those at less than a meter from me. 

"Do you play?" he had suddenly asked. I jumped at his voice, still not used to his tone of voice. Clear. Young. He was probably my age, actually, but his voice hadn't transformed yet. 

"I learned," I simply answered, looking away from the amazing instruments protected by the thick glass. Quatre had turned his gaze away at the same time, surely because he was staring at me in some way. But soon, he even turned his face, his head, his _body_ , purely showing his back to me and I didn't know what to think about it. I let it go, taking the piano seat to set myself and listen to the notes coming from his violin. He was a great player, the cords answering nicely to his violin bow and the way he gestured to make both parts interact. His features, too, were interesting to look at. Pleasant, I should say. He had a thin body, hidden in rich yet simple clothes. Not the best to go on a mission, not the worst. Special mention to those awful maroon trousers of his, really. 

The music had suddenly stopped, the bow in the air between his thin fingers, and he had barely turned his head to show his profil. 

"You're thinking so much," he had let out. "That's disturbing. You can rest; no one's going to attack us here."  
Arms crossed on my chest, I had had to stare at him, unable to speak. Not that I usually had a lot to say, but this time I had been taken by surprise. Something was weird with him. How had he known? My behavior? I’d been calm, quiet, and I knew for sure that I never looked under the cup of stress or anything. There was no way it wasn't as usual. 

"Don't worry," he had added, and I could have seen him smile softly. Something weird at that moment had been that even if I couldn't understand what was happening, I trusted that guy. And for a few seconds, I had wished I could relax and play with him. I wasn't as good as him for such things, but if only I had that old flute I used in the base when I was young, I-- 

"Want to give a try?" He had suddenly offered. 

Even if I hadn’t shown it, I felt destabilized, and I quite didn't like that feeling. What was he, a magician? A medium? Was he reading my mind or something? As I’d finally been frowning, Quatre had suddenly turned his head back to the window he was facing, hiding himself from me, but I had got enough time to see his face break down at the very moment I had had those thoughts about him, his cheeks slightly red with embarrassment and shame. 

"You-- You can use whatever you want in this house, if you want to," he had added, with this time no place for any weird meanings, but I still had to place it in our context of 'he's reading my mind or whatever it is'.  
Even now, I don't understand what was that. He never acted like that anymore after that episode, and sometimes I wondered if it had really meant something or if all of this had only been a coincidence. 

I hadn’t played with him, remaining silent for a while after a quick nod. The sound of his violin in the air was enough to me at that moment. It was all I needed after days in the desert, alone in my cockpit with the stressing beeps of the screens and microphones. 

The night had come surprisingly fast, almost all of a sudden, and from the bedroom they had let me use on that night, I had an amazing view on the oasis where everything had been built. I didn't need to know that they were the Winner family to understand how rich they were, really. 

I sighed. There was a soft scent in this room, like lavender, and it hadn’t taken me long to find out that the bed sheets were the origin of the smell. Not bad, it was better than that old and sometimes putrid kind-of-a-bed in those disgusting secret bases. It had even made me smile. 

In the corridor, some noises had made me straighten right away, and I had approached the door to listen through the wood. Quatre's voice was audible, asking for someone to lock the door of his room. 

The other man - I recalled the voice of the giant Manganac I talked earlier with, Rachid - agreed. I sighed, comforted as it wasn't a night attack or something this time. 

Wait-- 

No. 

I didn't want to know what it meant, they could lock their master in his bedroom all night, that was none of my business. Really. And with that thought, I had let myself fall on the bed, the soft and oh-god-so-comfortable mattress welcoming me with softness. Woah. Just with that, I could feel dizzy. My own breath had been resonating in my ears, my heartbeat getting slower and slower as I was trying to get off the recent events. The silence was overwhelming me, like now in this prison cell, but the feeling was by far so different. In that bedroom, I had felt in security. At first, I hadn’t really been able to point what was that feeling. I lay there, rolling on the bed until the moment I decided to take my clothes off, just keeping my underwear. It was a hot place, and I still wonder how I managed to keep my pull-over without fainting due to the heat. The smell of the fabric was terrible and I had winced noticing this, and finally decided to let it for the day after as the thick sheets were grabbing me.  
I don’t know how many times I slept. I mean, I purely slept, without even thinking about anything, with no dreams or nightmares. I was feeling so dazed, unable to clear my mind right away. Something had awoken me, but I couldn’t find what. A sound, something like that. 

A scream. A short and horrified scream has just resonated from one of the rooms near mine. The next thing I had heard was a loud noise, like something hurting the floor, a rather loose sound that appeared to be like a body falling. I had immediately jumped off the bed, my thoughts upside down from my unusual sleep, my brain barely working properly but no matter what, I was already in the corridor. Two Manganac were in front of a door, with a dark face, and the scream came again. 

I had blinked twice, my ears not really used to that voice, but just enough to _know_. 

“What’s happening?” I had asked. 

They had only shook their head weirdly, frowning while I was approaching. “Master Quatre ordered us not to let anyone come in,” one had tried to say. 

“He told you to lock him in, that’s quite different,” I had replied. 

They had made quite a funny face at that, but hadn’t moved on. His words were strong on them, and as a soldier I could understand. 

“What’s happening?” I had asked again. 

“Master Quatre can’t deal with someone else’s presence,” a voice had suddenly thundered from behind me, and I had jumped on my feet, the carpet covering the floor welcoming my naked toes. The giant Manganac, Rachid, was there, his face featuring a worrying looks while he was staring at the door. 

“If that’s it, why did he—“ 

I got cut out by his hard gaze. They wouldn’t be answering me in any way. No matter how awful were the screams resonating from the other side of that door, no matter how Quatre was panting. Was he in his bed? On the floor? How comes he was sounding so miserable and in pain? What was it, that they couldn’t tell me? It all sounded like a nightmare. Maybe I was just sleeping at that moment, after all it wasn't my thing, going in boxers in a corridor and chat with others in the middle of the night. 

But I could feel that it was real. The pain I could hear from the screams was real, and let me tell you that I knew quite a lot about that type of things. 

I had gritted my teeth, my hands curling into fists. “We’re both pilots and here for the same mission,” I had started with. “If there’s anything he’s hiding, then I won’t work with that guy.” 

There had been a cough from the other side of the door an it had caught my attention -and Rachid's, as I saw his gaze turn to the door. Coming closer, he had knocked softly against the smooth surface of the door, talking in a language I couldn't get any word from. The silence first had answered, but soon, the hesitating voice of the short blond reaching us. His voice sounded broken, breathless, even though I did't know what he was saying. It was some arabic or something, I hadn't learned that language at all, plus it might have been some patois. Rachid had nodded a few times to the few short sentences we had heard. But he hadn't stopped frowning, with that serious looks of his. He had tried a few more words, and we'd heard Quatre's body fumbling in the room, probably getting on his feet. The sound of metalic springs came to us. Had he sat on the bed? Was he going to sleep, just like that? 

"Open the door," I had said. This time, I'd seen an hesitation in his gaze, his huge hand tensing and about to reach for the key in the lock. 

But Quatre's voice had reached us again, stopping him immediatly and I had a similar feeling than earlier when I was with the other pilot. Jaw slightly tensing, Rachid had abandonned the door midway without a word, gesturing to the two other men for them to stay in place nonetheless. 

I had no idea what to do at that very moment. There was nothing to do, all I could understand was that Quatre had ordered to all of us to let him in his position. I still was able to hear his heavy, difficult breathing through the door, and it felt like nothing I had heard before. It wasn't the pain from war, it wasn't the tireness from fight, it wasn't any of what I knew myself. 

I didn't understand at that moment, and even now, months after that day, I didn't know what to think. On that night, I had to go back to that room, my head and ears full of his screams, pantings and breathings. 

It had taken me a while before I got to sleep again, even though I hadn't planned on really falling asleep again - it had taken me by surprise the first time, the second had been even more of a surprise - but after another couple of hours later, I had heard the screams awaking me for the second time. I hadn't moved this time, my mind racing to get the situation at its best. In the corridor, I could heard those men talking between them, half english and half arabic. I thought that nightmares could be his problem, but I never got any term related to this in their discuss. It had to be something else, and somehow they knew what was happening - or at least that man, Rachid, knew pretty well about the problem. 

I had spent the rest of the night like this, listening to the voices trying to cover Quatre's madness, and feeling strangely useless in this situation. There was nothing to do. But after the second episode, he finally had seemed to calm down, and only his heavy breathing was still barely audible from his room. 

On the morning, I had decided to leave the room early after dressing on my clothes -they were stinking as hell after the last battles, the sweat, the heat - and I immediatly bumped into the giant Manganac, almost crushing my nose against his large chest. Couldn't he prevent before popping in front of my door? But at least, I had slept a few hours during that night, and it even had been so restful that I was quite surprised myself by my own energy. Not that I hadn't had energy in the first place I mea, but I didn't have to _force myself_. 

"Follow me to the kitchen," he had ordered. I hadn't protested, my stomach agreeing with his request. The kitchen wasn't one of those huge rooms I had been walking through the day before when I was looking for my way in the house. It was a rather comfortable and normal kitchen, with classic wooden fournitures and a medium round table in the center. A newly flower bouquet was resting in a colored glass vase in the middle of the table. The smell of hot coffee was unbearable for someone who was so hungry as I was, and I hadn't any idea of why I was like that. Maybe sleeping too much -actually _sleeping_ itself- had that effect on me? 

A young woman, probably the cooker, had looked at me with a smile and seemed to understand my needs, quickly shoving a cup of black coffee in my hands. "There are croissants in the oven, just wait a few minutes, my boy," she had said. 

No need to say that I had just nodded. Oh dear. I had felt like some prince during this breakfast. Not like a Winner, just a prince was enough. Actually, just having a normal breakfast wasn't in my daily habits. We couldn't have the food we needed everyday, and while we were in a mission, it was even worse. OZ ad the Earth Alliance were looking for us, we couldn't show so much. 

I had been eating my second croissand and coffee when Quatre had arrived in the kitchen -and I hadn't been able to hide my surprise to see him in this room instead of the _grand salon_. But the cooker had smiled anyway, bringing him what she knew he would need. 

"Master, it's been a while," she had said. "You have grown up so much since the last time!" 

He'd jut nodded with a smile as he seemed to do all the time, and at that moment, from my piece of wall I had been leaning against, I had seen those imperceptible bags under his eyes, and the hint of red around the bright blue apple of his eyes. The night had been difficult for him, for sure. 

" 'Morning," I had heard myself say. He hadn't turn his gaze to me, but I knew there was still that soft smile on his face at my uncertain try to be sociable. 

"Good morning. Had a good night?" 

He wasn't drinking coffe like me, a mug of hot and sweet chocolat between his hands, and somehow I smiled at the memories. I had shrugged, unable at that moment to say anything about the weird night I had had.  
The morning had passed by quite quickly, Quatre spending his time helping people all around the residence. I didn't know that being so rich led people to such an altruism but it seemed that he was the only one like that. Sometimes I had seen his eyes flicked to me, when I was wondering too much and he quickly changed the object of his attention. This all, from the day before, was leaving a weird taste at the back of my tongue, and I couldn't point precisely what it was. 

Quatre was just something I couldn't follow. 

Every time our eyes had me, Quatre had imediatly turned away. He was nothing I had known before, and I had been going through the whole morning beteen astonishment and frustration for being treated like that. In the end, I was deeply annoyed. 

"How many time do they need?" I had asked when we finally were only the two of us in the kitchen for some cold soup at lunch. 

Outside, it had become quite hot so the Manganac had told us not to go out anymore. We were way too pale according to them and not used to such a weather and climat. 

"For the reparations you mean?" Qutre had assumed. "They'll be ok soon I guess, they worked on our Gundam all night long." 

I nodded. That was perfect. I didn't want to spend much time here. Something was disturbing me and I couldn't take it right. I didn't need things to last for too long like this. There had been a weird silence in which Quatre had remained quite, drinking his soup slowly. I had finished ine for a moment already - I wasn't used to take my time to eat, considering how important the lack of time was during a battle. 

I had finally cought a little, unsure about the situation at that moment, and he's eventually let his gaze slip up to my face with that curiosity of his devoring me as much as possible. Or rather that was how it had felt to me. It had been, since the day before, as if I'd been the first one he was interacting with, the first one he was watching at, the first one he was talking to. 

I couldn't understand any of this. 

He had that soft smile. He had put that sweet looks on his features, his bright blue eyes almost shining in the daylight coming through the shutters closed at every window now. And in the lack of light, I stared at him, my mind racing again and again while e was tilting his head on the side, curious, his eyes blinking at me. 

"Something's wrong?" 

"I--" 

I had shaken my head. Be neutral, Trowa. "It's ok. I'm off for a walk. I'll see you later." 

An idea had suddenly hit me, a memory about some people I had known before, long time ago when I was a mercenary under the Barton command. From when I was No Name, and I felt like wincing at it. I needed to make things clear, but not with him, not now. 

I had left the kitchen already, leaving him alone. 

There was that idea that had suddenly popped in my mind and somehow, it would have explained a lot of things if only it was real. But at the same time, I hated the possibility of this to be true. I couldn't work with this guy if there was any possibility for him to be _like this_. I had walked a moment, trying every corridors I could find, until I managed to find the huge garage where our Gundam had been stored for the reparations. I was out of breath, running in the end without noticing it myself and Rachid, who was present, was already staring at me from his place a few meters away from me. His dark features and giant stature were all but friendly to me. I walked to him nonetheless, my hand curling into fists despite myself. 

"Your mobile suit will be ready in two hours," Rachid had said with his gluttural voice. 

"Is he a Newtype?" 

Rachid gawked at me for a moment, his eyes folded, lips tightened with an upset looks. 

"Us, Manganac, are dedicated to Master Quatre's security and wellness," he had started, but I didn't intend to let him get me as easily as this. 

"That's not the point," I had growled. "Answer me." 

"We can't entrust a stranger, I'm sorry. These are orders." 

"Can he read people thoughts?" I had kept asking. "Can he read them? Can he know what they think?" 

"I told you, I won't be answering this." 

Rachid knew that I wasn't stupid. Of course, I was right, his absence of negative answer being enough of a proof to me. 

Really. They had choosen a fucking Newtype to pilot the fourth Gundam and fight for their Peace. What a joke.  
  
I had swallowed thickly, feeling a lump deep in my throat. Not that I was betrayed of anything. I didn't know them, they hadn't done anything, it was even the contrary. They had welcomed me, treated me like one of theirs, offered me food and sleep. 

But knowing that... 

_I couldn't take it._

"I'll be leaving in two hours," I had spat to the man before turning heels to the stairs going back to the long corridors. 

He hadn't answer - I hadn't given hime the possibility to, actually. 

A newtype. Actually, I didn't know anything about Quatre, I didn't even know what he was, I just had _felt_ something weird, unusual about him. The way he seemed to understand everything, the way he seemed to know everything, all of that reminded me of those Newtypes I'd known while I was living with the mercenaries. They were pieces of crap living only for their honnor, able to kill you for being better than them even if you had no abilities like them. They were self-called "Princes of the space", and had tried many times to take the controle of the Barton foundation. They killed, so many times for fun or for that disgusting honnor of theirs, or even for fake reasons they had just found to have an excuse. They were powerful, they were stronger than normal human beings, and they knew it. They were beyong us. 

So, what if Quatre was one of them? I still didn't know the truth. Maybe he was just a little too friendly, maybe he was just able to read people through their features and had an ease to guess theirs thoughts at a very moment?  
No. It was something else, and I had that firm conviction. Even now, I still had. 

When I'd been back to the kitchen, Quatre wasn't eating his soup anymore. Of course he was done and I had been somehow thankful for the time it had given me to make my thoughts in order before seeing him back. I had been pretty sure that he would know something had happened just my looking at my face right now, and I hadn't want to be that weak. 

I hadn't spoiled my time after that, packaged the few things I had with me in my backpack. An hour left, I had sighed watching the huge clock on the wall of the bedroom I had been using untill now. 

The soft sound that was coming from the corridor hit my ears. The violin cords' music were resonating, calling for the last time. Because it would be the last, for sure. I didn't intend to work with a Newtype. I was alone by myself, I had a mission to accomplish and I didn't need him. 

I let my bag on the bed. 

In the music room, Quatre was there again, standing, the neck of the violin between his thin fingers, the body of the instrument stuck between his chin and collarbones. The bow in the other hand was making soft goings and comings. His lips were tightened closely, a frown between his eyebrows. His music sounded happy. He wasn't.  
You can use whatever you want, he had said the day before. 

I didn't intend to see him again after that. I could at least do something I had wanted for long. This was what I thought when I saw the simple flute put on the piano behind him. 

He knew already. It couldn't have been a coincidence. 

I'd spent the last hour joining him and playing. I didn't look at him all this time. I didn't need it. I could picture his gaze on me, I could feel it, so strong, so intense, and at the same time so insecure. I could imagine his huge blue shining eyes, that particularity some Newtypes had while using their abilities. Even not using it, some of them were jut so powerful that their entire body was amazing in that way, something beautiful an scary at the same time. 

Quatre was amazingly handsome, even for a boy. 

I had left the flute after that without a word. He hadn't talked either, his attention turned to the window, shutters half-closed to let some light enter the room. 

I had left the house without a word after Rachid had come to tell me that everything was ready. Quatre was silent, nodding sometimes to the giant Manganac when he was talking. 

Outside, it was so hot that I first thought that I wouldn't be able to breath until I get into my cockpit - and it probably was right. 

"Wait!" 

His voice had stopped me instantly, making me turn. Quatre was at the music room window, shutters fully opened and not caring at all for the un on his white skin. 

"You-- I didn't told you my name!" 

You din't need. 

"I'm Quatre! Quatre Raberba Winner!" 

He was smiling. 

I wanted to sigh. I knew what he wanted. 

"I don't have a name," I started with, but something in his face made me regret immediatly my words. "But you can call me Trowa. Trowa Barton." 

His smile had grown even bigger and I had turned my eyes away. I wouldn't see him again, so what? 

"See you, Trowa!" 

_Stupid Newtype_. 

The cell smelt musty, makin me wincing when a wave of awful smell reached my nostrils. Sometimes, I wanted to puke but my empty stomach didn't agree so much with that idea. 

My pull-over was stinky, again, like that day. 

Since I left Quatre, I hadn't seen him again. Only through the news on TV, and it was only his Gundam's exploit. He was still fighting. 

But to me, Quatre wasn't one of us. He would never be. 

I just missed the sound of his violin, the smoothness of his hand on the instrument and the warmth of his gaze while he was playing by my side. 

I missed the human in him, for the only day I'd spent with Quatre Raberba Winner. 


End file.
